Does this poem wander too much? Should I delete the fibers on the carding board part? The last phrase of the poem feels like an after thought. Is it helpful? HELP! I am surrounded by people who are aging in place as am I at 84. Dewell
MAYBE TONIGHT, WITH WINGS
There was a blue bird at my window sill today.
It seemed unsure, maybe confused by its
Reflection or the secrets brought by linen wind.
Or was it yesterday; a robin playing a grimy
Game of tug-of-war with a night crawler?
Or the mailman bringing notice of rent,
Credit card, deaf debt thrown against the wall?
My memory has become an emigrant
Wandering through the grayness of a spring
That will not come. I look everywhere for
Something or nothing and find only fog.
Am I an old regret, a placebo person, a wild
Dream forgotten like lingering fibers on
The carding board of Grandma's wheel
Or dust on the pedals of the church organ?
Maybe with the wings of night I'll fly
Free of the spiderless web that binds
Me on this night that wears a long coat.
-Dewell H. Byrd
MAYBE TONIGHT, WITH WINGS
There was a blue bird at my window sill today.
It seemed unsure, maybe confused by its
Reflection or the secrets brought by linen wind.
Or was it yesterday; a robin playing a grimy
Game of tug-of-war with a night crawler?
Or the mailman bringing notice of rent,
Credit card, deaf debt thrown against the wall?
My memory has become an emigrant
Wandering through the grayness of a spring
That will not come. I look everywhere for
Something or nothing and find only fog.
Am I an old regret, a placebo person, a wild
Dream forgotten like lingering fibers on
The carding board of Grandma's wheel
Or dust on the pedals of the church organ?
Maybe with the wings of night I'll fly
Free of the spiderless web that binds
Me on this night that wears a long coat.
-Dewell H. Byrd